


this isn’t some greek tragedy

by buries



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>like how the stars are arranged in the sky, with no particular neatness to them, she finds she fits against him as one would expect.</i> or the one where a raven allowed herself to be captured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this isn’t some greek tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> this is the product of boredom. i wanted to write some smut, wanted to write pwp, and so this happened. not really sure what it is ... it's meant to be set in the very far future. it's sort of pwp? it was kind of inspired by [this poem](http://finnicks.tumblr.com/post/139601923592/elvedon) and the prompt _peace_. _stay_ by rihanna was also an inspirational force.
> 
> this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. the title is from the poem linked above. thanks for reading. ♥

Even the buildings are tired.

They camp where there’s stories. He hunts for them, greedy to know of a pillar that’s broken, in the midst of crumbling when it had once been written to stand impenetrable to even a nuclear bomb. They’re far away from camp, distant enough to not hear the sighs of the Ark as it creaks, lost in a world it had never been built to live within.

Just like them, she sometimes thinks. Like the pillars of his stories, she thinks he finds himself disappointed in what he finds. Crumbled and broken bits of stone. Shards of it laying on the ground in defeat.

Sometimes, when he tells her his stories, voice low and rough and tired, he speaks of the buildings. Of the pillars that crumble beneath the enormous weight of the stones, of the voices that linger and shout and bounce off of the walls inside. In the middle of the night, he tells her of these stories, of the buildings that have been passed from god to goddess, from hunter to huntress, from immortal to mortal. And sometimes she wonders if these stories have ever lived outside of the mind of a young boy wishing for much more than the silver metallic walls of a space ship.

She can feel them sigh now, beneath the earth. Out here, so far away from camp, she finds that the earth itself seems to grow weary. Gaia, he’s told her, sometimes yawns, stretches in her sleep; sometimes she grows angry, tearing the ground apart from beneath them. Sometimes she can feel it, or half-feel it, one foot painstakingly numb compared to the other. But she thinks she can feel Gaia wrap around her sometimes. Hands pressing against her shoulders, trying to collapse her like she’s a mountain.

He’s staring up at the stars, lying on top of his sleeping bag. Pilfered from the mountain, sewn together by his sister, it’s the best damn mattress their camping supplies have to offer. The tent remains unpacked in his backpack as per her request, the stars their companions as they twinkle down and wrap their stories around her fingers like webbing.

Cerberus, she thinks to tell him. The stars are his Cerberus for the night.

Lying beside him, Raven’s arm brushes against his own when she turns onto her back. Dressed in only her shirt and underwear, she lets her legs breathe. Feels the air skim along her ankle, up her calf, and tiptoe along her leg to her knee. It isn’t shy, much like his touch. Gentle and warm, yet sharp in its coolness and desire to wrap itself around and burrow into her flesh it elicits goosebumps.

With her leg tapping against his, she likes how solid he feels beneath her. Like a root of a thick tree, unable to bend to the claps of thunder that tries to scare it into nestling away into the earth, he’s always there. His foot taps her back quite often, but she finds tonight he’s unresponsive.

Rolling onto her side, she admires him for a moment. Watches as his eyes seem to twinkle like the stars. She likes she can see them reflected in his dark eyes, even though she knows he’s never been favourable to the stars ever wandering into his open hands. They’ve always been closed, balled into fists. Unwelcoming to any sort of hope, any light, she sometimes wonders what it’s like to walk in a world where she expects darkness to greet her at every turn.

Reaching out, she brushes her hand against his shoulder, lifting it to trail the back of her fingers against his cheek lightly.

It’s then he stirs, like the earth does upon morning. Turning his head toward her, he smiles softly, and though the night is dead upon them, as black as the world can be as it sleeps beneath its stars, Raven finds the sun lies beside her now.

“Hey,” she murmurs. Brushing the backs of her fingers against his forehead, she combs her fingers through his unruly hair. “Stop thinking. I can feel it rumble through the ground.”

“What?” He sounds tired. He looks slightly amused beneath the tired lines under his eyes. His lips curve upward, and she finds that to be the most energetic part of him. “What’s rumbling?”

“Your brain,” she says, nails scraping against his scalp. She can feel him hum before she hears it, reverberating through the ground. “It’s trying to work.” Her tone turns light as she informs him factually, “Doesn’t know it can’t.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, shifting away from her to look up at the stars. It gives her the chance to slide her fingers down the slope of his nose and to leap to his cheek, connecting the freckles there to form a constellation of her own. 

Gazing up at him as he does the stars, Raven lets her eyes glide along his profile. His unruly hair, sticking up at all ends from her hands, down to his dark eyes, focused on the sky above, to the slope of his nose, and then the tense line of his mouth. She looks upon him as though he’s a constellation himself, understanding the way he seems to burn.

Pushing herself up, she manoeuvres herself to lie upon him. Dragging her leg is a chore, but she lifts it up with a slight grunt, feeling his hands move to support her thigh even though she knows he doesn’t know what she’s doing.

Pressing her ear near his heart, she digs her hands beneath his back, feeling him arch against and into her. It’s never away from her. She always cradles that warm sensation she feels each time he stretches into her, tucking it somewhere safely inside of her.

Digging her fingers into his back, she grips the thin fabric of his shirt. She knows he hooks his leg around her bum one when she feels herself warm, feeling safe, once more, beneath the stars that have always been kind to her.

“Boom, boom,” she murmurs. Tapping against his back, she tries to capture his heartbeat with her fingers. “Sounds pretty solid to me. Think it’s picking up though.” She doesn’t lift her head, murmuring slightly into his shirt. “Thinking about someone special?”

“Yes,” he says. Shifting beneath her, she suspects its from her fingers. She makes sure to tap against his back again, tracing his heartbeat into his spine so he can feel it wrap around him like a cocoon. “A raven.”

“A bird, huh?” Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, knuckles trying to press into him to see him sear into her. “Kind of flighty, aren’t they?”

She feels him shake his head, it reverberating through him like a tremor in the earth. “Not this one. The _corvus corax_ isn’t flighty at all.”

She smiles, and laughs lightly, “I can’t believe you know that shit.” Moving against him, she places her palm against his heart, shielding it when her ear can’t. Peering up at him, she finds he’s looking at her, expression soft and warm. “You read up on common ravens.”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. She thinks he’s blushing, but perhaps that’s her, burning as brightly as a ball of gas in the night sky. “But the one I’m thinking of isn’t common.”

Raven rolls her eyes, mouth curved upward as she finds her face heats. Even though it’s dark, she still ducks her head, just in case her hair can protect her from glowing a little too brightly like the moon. Her hair is as unruly as his, untamed as the nights tend to be with him. Unlike his, though, she can curtain herself away, locking him out until he thinks to find her once more.

Feeling his hand against her cheek, brushing some of her loose hair away, she tilts her head up to look at him. Smiling softly at him, she angles her chin up, arches her brow, and challenges, “Since you know so much about ravens, you know they’re opportunistic.”

“With what they eat.”

She hits his shoulder lightly, placing her hand back over his heart. “Don’t ruin it. I’m trying to be smooth.”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles. “Ravens are opportunistic. You’re going to tell me for what, right?”

“For a friend,” she says. She finds her smile slips, the cheekiness evaporating into the air. Looking at him, she finds herself unable to gaze away. She becomes focused on looking at the freckles on his cheeks, scattered there like he’d been made for her fingers to graze upon. Her voice a mere murmur, “Did you know ‘Bellamy’ means that? Handsome friend.”

“Yeah,” he says, watching her. She can feel him studying her like she’s a book, just as she’s watching his expression as though he’s a constellation. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, and she pulls her hand from underneath him to press her fingers against it in an attempt to smooth it.

Removing her hand from his temple, she leans forward to slope her mouth against his. With a light press of her lips, she feels his hands crawl up her back. Gripping at the fabric of her shirt, she feels it shift against the small of her it.

Arching away from him, she helps him pull it up and over her head. Discarding it to the side, her hand digs beneath his back again, trying to seek for the hem of his. Slanting her mouth firmly against his own once more, she stops her hands from devouring him before she has any chance to try and memorise him. 

Her hand crawls up his back as she feels his mouth against her own, believing it’s curved upward into a slack kind of smile. He arches away from her touch before he relaxes, just as he licks at the seam of her lips.

Pulling away from his mouth, she kisses beneath his jaw. Feeling him arch his neck beneath her lips, she climbs down the ladder of his throat, searching for his pulse. Wondering if it’s beating as quickly as her own, she presses her hand against his heart. She thinks she can feel it beat hard and fast, grounding as it’s always been.

His hands cling to her back, fingers digging into her skin as they drag down her spine. Feeling the notches, climbing down them, she feels herself arch into his hands as his fingers settle on the small of her back. Pressed right over her scar, she can feel his fingers brush against it before they slide to her hips to curve against her hipbones.

Sucking at his neck, she hears his breath hitch. “Raven,” he whispers, out of breath. 

“I told you,” she murmurs against his neck. For a moment, she loses her thought, truly unlike the _corvus corax_ she’s come to admire until she lifts her head to peer up at him. “I told you I’m opportunistic.”

She thinks he smiles, but she moves too quickly, rising to straddle him as best she can. Feeling one knee dig into the ground beneath them, she leans back, watching him reach forward to hook his fingers beneath his shirt and lift it up and over his head. Leaving it behind him, she lowers herself just as he does, the ground at his back just as the sky’s at hers.

Hovering over him, she leans down, about to slope her mouth against his once more. Noticing how his lips have parted, she shifts away, arching her back as she bows to brush them against his collarbone. Feeling the scratches of a knife beneath her lips, she makes sure to kiss them, counting them as she does so. Making her way down his sternum, she can feel him tense, breath hitching, as his hands seem unable to settle on her.

Eventually, she feels his hands on her hips. She feels _one_ on her hip while the other disappears, and she knows it’s on her leg. If she lifts her head and looks down at him, following the line of his arm, she’ll see that he’s palming her thigh, behaving like it’s not a dead weight upon her.

Sometimes he makes her feel like she’s a shooting star, something rare, like the eclipse she often feels he is for her.

Lifting her mouth away from him, she peers along the length of him to see his hand on her thigh. Finding her breath catches, she watches as his thumb brushes against her skin, figuring the touch has to be hard. But his hands have always been soft on her, gentle in a way that isn’t akin to coddling. 

She isn’t glass. Bellamy’s broken that, shattered mirrors into shards when he feels himself overcome. But he touches her in a way he does a book, fingers gliding along the spine, the cover, flicking the pages like he’d been made to hold paper instead of a rifle.

Her hands find their way to his hips, brushing against his wrist. His hands fall away like they’re stars once the sun awakens from her slumber, disappearing beside him as she shifts lower along him. Unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them, she watches him push his hips up so she can slide them down those sharp hipbones she’s memorised beneath her fingertips.

His hands brush against her waist, a hand gliding up her side as she moves forward. His touch is what she’d always thought to be stardust. Light and gentle, hot and burning as she finds herself leaning both into and away from his fingertips.

Arching forward, she slants her mouth hard against his, licking into the cavern of it almost immediately. His hands, warm and rough, glide along her naked back, tangling in her hair as she rolls her hips into his.

She isn’t so sure who the sound comes from, but it’s like the earth is opening up, yawning as she feels him hard beneath her as she rolls her hips once more. 

“Off,” she murmurs against his lips. She shifts against him, feeling her good knee dig hard into the ground. Hooking her fingers into his underwear, she pulls them down, and finds that she’s stopped from following her instincts in wrapping her fingers around his cock when his hands are curving against her ass, sliding her underwear along with them. She does her best to lean upward, but with only one leg supporting her, she feels like she’s a toppling building.

Bellamy doesn’t seem to mind. Pulling her forward, she thinks it’s him that groans when she feels his cock against the inside of her thigh. And she moves against him, purposefully, watching his face as he looks up at the stars, lips parted, before he turns to gaze at her.

“Come on, Raven,” he breathes out. She moves, not as smoothly as she’d like, until she’s sitting on his hips. With her underwear still on, she rocks against him, feeling the ground beneath them shiver along with him. 

An earthquake’s meant to disrupt the earth’s routine, waking her up, making her stand to attention, or even scurry and hide. Raven finds her tactic isn’t any different. If she isn’t a titan stomping her feet against the ground, goading Gaia to hide, she knows he’d flip them, stronger than her and more agile, he’d turn them over, make her see the stars, the ground at her back, as she gazes up at him instead of the moon above.

Lifting herself up as best she can, she pulls at her underwear, moving it to the side. Wrapping her fingers around him, she glides her blunt nail along the length of him, hearing him groan as though he’s a tremor ripping the earth apart. Brushing her thumb against the head of his cock, she smiles, slack in its shape as she feels him shiver beneath her. 

She guides herself to brush the head of his cock against the seam of her cunt, feeling his fingers dig hard into the bones of her hips. Watching herself take him in, she moans, letting it slip through her lips when he’s only ever let it rumble through his throat.

Free, like the stars, she hopes the sky shakes as the earth does beneath him. Sheathing him, she feels his fingers grip her hips and refuse to relent in the pressure, just as her hands move to his chest, dragging her nails down along it. 

Stilling for a moment, she looks at him, sees him watching her with his eyes darks, lips parted, and she swears she can see him flush.

Then she moves, using his abdomen to push herself up as best she can, finding herself moaning loud once more when she slides back down on him. Bellamy’s fingers grip her hips so tight she can feel half-moon crescents dig into her skin, even make their way into the marrow of her bones.

Moving beneath her, he rocks into her. Stretching her body along him, she presses her mouth sloppily against his own, feeling him nip at her bottom lip, his hands gliding along her back as his nails mimic hers and drag down her spine.

Arching into him, Raven’s toes curl. Her knee digs into the ground, sliding off the edge of the thick sleeping bag beneath him. The ground has always been unforgiving for her. Hard and unkind, it’s tripped her, bruised her legs and hands, tried to break her spirit as it has her ability to walk without a pain shooting up to her hip. 

But unlike the stars, where she’d felt invincible, able to float where there’d been nothing and no one to stop her, she finds it hugs her better than the space between the friends she thought would always have her back. Not quite as fine as the one she finds herself in the embrace of now, the stars had been too distant, cold balls of gas, unkind in their own refusal to reach out and help her when she truly asked for it.

Rocking her hips into his, she can feel her body grow hot. Burning as a star, she wonders if he can withstand it, being made of softer stuff, of the type that can easily be consumed by the likes of her. But, as always, he contains it between his hands, rough palms on the small of her back as she feels his fingers press against the puckered skin of it.

Sometimes she wonders if the earth can withstand a burning star, but she finds her answer in how he cradles her.

Leaning her forward against the press of his fingers against the small of her back, she feels his hand between her legs, suspecting it’d been on her leg she can’t quite feel before he’d moved it. But she’s sure she can see where he’s touched her, brightening her skin as he does the night sky. 

Brushing against her clit, she feels his hips rock up sharper into her own, attempting to knock her from the sky she perches in. Her hands grip at his shoulders, fingers digging hard into the skin to leave full moons in their wake. Damaging the freckles lined there, she leans forward to kiss his upper lip, pressing her mouth against the corner of his own.

His hands grip at her hair, wrapping his fingers into the strands to release them. Nails against her back, she feels him try to dig into her, attempting to bury his fingers into her her flesh to reach her spine as he does the hand between them. It’s the small of her back he focuses on, like he can rip her open again, somehow repair the broken wires of her spine like she has the outside of the Ark.

But it’s always been his touch she’s found to be soothing, some sort of balm that’s meant to calm the sting of an old wound. It’s no longer fresh, not one he’s able to rip open, even though she’s sure he thinks he does over and over.

Raven’s hands thread into his hair, pulling at the strands hard. She feels his fingers mould themselves to the curve of her ass, pushing her against him, helping her rock into him as he brushes his finger hard against her clit.

Deliberately sloping her mouth against his, her body tenses as she clenches around him, coming with a loud moan against his mouth. It’s better it’s against his lips, the rumbling of her own tremors embedded into his flesh than the night sky. 

She feels it in herself, the way he seems to cling to her like the stars to the sky above them. Always together, never quite apart, not even when the clouds smear themselves to try and dull the shine of them in favour of the moon, Raven’s always felt him cling to her in a way that feels everlasting.

Moving her hips against his, she rests her hand against his abdomen, watching him as he seems to look at her through half hooded eyes. Bucking up into her, she brushes her other hand against his wrist, thinking she can feel his pulse burn as his heart seems to pound in his chest. Dark and resting upon her, she watches as he rises.

Folding into her, he presses his lips against her collarbone, the wetness his mouth leaving a trail of sloppy kisses near her neck and shoulder. She feels him tense moments later, his back arching as he comes as quietly as she thinks the sun climbs the ladder of the sky with a low moan against her shoulder.

Holding him to her, she lets her hands slide from his back to his chest, pushing him gently onto his back.

Sloping her mouth firmly against his, she kisses the corner of Bellamy’s lip, then his cheek, settling for the tip of his nose before she pulls away. Shifting against him, she groans at how he’s still inside of her, the movement of her hips against his as she lowers herself to use his chest as a pillow. Hand pressed over his heart, she nestles into the crook of his neck, feeling his hand glide along her back. Fingers light against her spine, his other wraps around her waist, palm always covering the small of her back.

She thinks she can feel his heart hammering hard inside of his chest, mirroring her own as she hopes he can feel it echo through him. Sliding her leg to hook her foot around his ankle, she leaves her other where it is. 

The way she throws herself over him never needs to be neat. Like how the stars are arranged in the sky, with no particular neatness to them, she finds she fits against him as one would expect. Slightly rough, a little jagged and imperfectly.

She feels him breathe in, somehow gather his breath. His hand is in her hair, fingers gliding down her back as he seems to brush it out over her shoulder blades. He murmurs, “Did you know there’s a Greek story about a raven?”

She laughs softly. “Of course there is.” 

She doesn’t need to peer up at him to know he’s looking down at her. “Coronis,” he says.

Shifting against him, Raven taps her fingers against his chest. Her other remains tucked beneath her, keeping herself warm, him anchored down to the ground in case he wishes to try and fly after her in the sky. But she’s nowhere near the moon, hardly up with the constellations, as she finds herself down on the ground with her chosen star.

With a smile, she tilts her head, presses her lips against his collarbone, then settles her cheek back against the pillow of him. “Tell me.”


End file.
